A Mission Heart
by AMWalsh
Summary: Masen does not remember his full name or anything from his passed. Will Bella be able to help him find out who he really is. Let faith and kindness guide these two through ups and downs as they fall in love and discover that it's whats on the inside that counts and how you treat one another that truly matters.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1 : Mr. Penny

A Mission Heart

"Excuse me, excuse me, excuse me." This was my everyday chant as I pushed and weaved my way through the busy rush hour traffic of the underground metro station. You would think that people who are in a rush to get someplace would be moving instead of just standing there texting sipping coffee in my way.

I finally get through the crowd and make my way across the platform to wait for my train. I spot a familiar form sitting on the ground, propped against the tile wall. He has a hat on today, probably because of the cold. His hair is an unusual color and looks to be in typical disarray. I could spot his head of copperish hair on a crowded platform or in a sea of stadium spectators. I myself have boring brown hair with a hint of auburn. Its long strands have a mind of their own, curling and flying away from wherever I put them. Curly-haired girls want straight hair, and straight-haired girls want curly. My wavy locks drive me insane.

Today Mr. Penny, as I like to refer to him, is playing the harmonica next to his most recent companion, an older man with grey hair. The music is sad but lovely and attracts a few listeners, most of whom contribute to the large black hat placed on the floor between the two men. I often wonder how much money they bring in from their impromptu concerts and if it's enough to feed them or their families. I wonder if they have enough money for a place to stay when it's cold out and if they have enough to eat. I almost miss my train as I'm standing here listening and watching the crowd around them. Right before I step onboard, I turn to glance at Mr. Penny and get trapped in his emerald gaze.

This is not the first time that we have locked eyes, and I'm most certain it will not be our last. He is there during the week when I am on the way to and from work. Sometimes he is playing the harmonica and has a companion. Other times he is alone and reading, but always in the same spot. He has never spoken to me or I him, but we have shared a couple smiles and nods as we acknowledge the familiarity of seeing someone more than once.

Work drones on and on as I try to get the children to grasp some understanding of the English language. Being a teacher is hard yet satisfying. Most students try and do their best, but every once in awhile I get one that stands out and has potential for greatness; those are the times I enjoy my job the most.

School has just started back up and I am excited for the New Year and a new house to remodel. I make an average teachers salary and enjoy the steady income. I recently turned 25 and was reminded by my overbearing mother that I am now one quarter of a century old and need to get married and have some kids. I settled for buying a house and fixing it up, instead.

My dating life is nonexistent, mostly because of my moral compass and religious choices and beliefs. I'm not a bible thumper or a born again Christian or even a Mennonite, but I do have a faith that I try my best to follow.

I go to church every Sunday and Wednesday nights. I thieve my 10 percent and am thankful for the 100percent of blessings that god bestows upon me daily. I do date, I drink on occasion and tend to have the mouth of a sailor sometimes, but I do have a "chastity belt" that is under lock and key until my wedding night. I of course get regular pestering from my friends Angela and Jessica, who are both happily married with wonderful husbands. I quote my usual one liner whenever they start with me:

"I'm saving my cherry for the man I marry."

They usually laugh or just shake their heads and snicker at me. So far I have had zero pregnancy scares and have taken zero trips to Planned Parenthood or the health department for the morning after pill. And I am pleased to announce that I am disease free.

I go to a small Baptist church that is close nit and has a strong mission ministry. I have also becomes close with my pastor's family. I enjoy helping whenever needed and offering support to those in need or just a ear for listening. I have decided to take a more active role in the mission work that our church does, but on a more local level, because I can't travel far with work and a new house to remodel.

On my way home from work it's raining and of course, I have forgotten my umbrella again. My hair is sticking to my face as I exit the train and step onto the platform. I notice that some strands are starting to frizz up and fly everywhere. As I'm walking across the platform, I see Mr. Penny in his usual spot talking with his friend. I like looking at his eyes; they express so much. This morning they are sad and it touches my heart. I have seen them happy before, and it was a beautiful sight to see. They seemed to flow emerald like in the "Wizard of Oz".

"Excuse me ma' am?" I turn around as I'm tapped on the shoulder and come face to face with Mr. Penny.

He's holding out my wallet that has some wet bills flapping in the wind. "You dropped this."

"Oh, my! Thank you so much! I hadn't noticed I dropped it." I look down and see that, in my haste to stay somewhat dry, I have only one strap of my purse up while the other is hanging down. He gives me a small smile as I take my wallet from him. Our fingers gently touch and his are ice cold. His hand and arm are thin and I can see the bones outlined under his skin. He has long thin fingers. I look closely at the rest of him and see that he is very thin and his cheeks are hollowed out. I assume this is from hunger. My heart aches and I rush off before I can start to cry.

Once I am above ground, I stop and lean against a wall to let my tears fall freely. I am not naive about the world and the many troubles that people face daily, but to see them up-close is terrifying.

I have a million thoughts running through my head as my evening continues. As I cook my one-person dinner in my new but very used town home, I watch some TV. Flipping channels, I come across a show about coupons on TLC and it's riveting. . I watch amazed as people pay pennies for hundreds of dollars of food, and recall the events of my day. I want to help Mr. Penny. I want to help so many people in his position, and I think I may have come up with an idea.

The next morning as I'm making my breakfast, I make two extra bagels. I grab two bottles of water as I'm leaving the house. I don't think about what I'm going to do, because if I think too much I won't be able to follow through.

As I descend the stairs of the subway station, I don't hear any instruments so I'm thankful that I won't be interrupting the street concert. Mr. Penny is once again seated on the ground with his long legs stretched out. He seems to be wearing the same clothes that he was wearing yesterday. His friend is there next to him rubbing his hands together. It's not raining today, but both men are bundled up tightly due to the crisp late November air. I'm slowly walking towards them as I exit the sea of bodies in the usual morning rush hour. Mr. Penny catches my eyes as I'm getting closer. He stands up slowly and smiles at me.

"Thank you for yesterday." I say. "I really do appreciate your honesty. I'm sorry for running off…, here I thought you might like some bagels." I hand him the small paper bag then dig out the waters as he slowly takes the bag from me.

"It was no problem, ma'am. I'm just glad I saw who dropped it. Thank you for the bagels; we'll enjoy them." His voice is deep and scratchy at first, then turns more velvety as his sentence progresses. I find myself staring into his eyes longer than I should.

"It's the least I could do. Thank you again and have a blessed day." I reply and turn quickly away after giving him a small smile. As I walk towards my train stop, I hear him say, "You too."

A/N: This is a new story that I can't get out of my head. I hope that you enjoy it. I am desperately seeking a beta. If anyone knows of anyone, please let me know. Reviews are greatly appreciated. I turn to them for story guidance and ideas. Thank you again for joining me on this long journey.


	2. Chapter 2

A Mission Heart

Chapter 2: Lady's Night

After my encounter with Mr. Penny on Wednesday morning, I feel anxious each time I see him over the next few days. He smiles when he sees me approaching with the small paper bag, and it gives me a sense of purpose. Thursday and Friday go the same with two bagels and two bottles of water, and each time he thanks me and smiles brightly. I express my gratitude for him finding my wallet and I scurry off in a rush to catch my train. I am forced to wonder what he will do on Saturday and Sunday for breakfast. I'm not so vain as to think he will starve to death without my small morning contribution to his nourishment. He did survive before I decided to make him my new cause.

Sunday morning after church is our monthly brunch. I am seated next to the pastor's wife, as usual. She is updating me on the different programs the church is sponsoring this month. With Thanksgiving coming up,we are planning the meal and also gearing up for the Christmas season. I volunteer every year to help cook and serve the meals along with a few other ladies in the church. I believe this is my perfect opportunity to tell her my grand idea about coupons and starting a mission project to of feed the town's hungry.

"I have been watching that show on TLC about coupons, and I started thinking that we could do something like that as part of our mission work. You see, I tried a test run this week and got over $100 worth groceries for only $12." I start with a success story that I had Thursday night at the store.

"Bella that's a wonderful idea!" We could get some of the other ladies involved and start a class with our bible study group on Wednesday nights. Would you be willing to teach us how to use coupons and find great deals?" Mrs. Cope asks.

"I can try my bes,t but I was thinking along the lines of setting up a soup kitchen and a food pantry for the homeless and hungry to use." I hope she sees where I am going with this.

"Oh, I hadn't thought of that." Said Mrs. Cope. "That would be a great way to reach more people. Why don't you do a few more test runs and see how much you can come up with, and I'll talk to Art for you to see if we can put a bulletin in next week's program. Just email me the specifics and what you need. I hope this is a great success. I can just imagine all the good we can do, especially with winter approaching. Oh! We can work it in with our coat and blanket drive. Bella, I think you've really got something here. Oh, look at me going on and on, sweetie; I'm sorry. Tell me, how are things with you at work? Is there a special man in your life?" Oh, no, she is giving me that look my mother gives me when she is prying into my social life.

The evening proceeds with the usual chatter and catching up on our work and personal lives. I learn that she has once again mentioned me to one of her friend's sons and is trying to sell me on all of his attributes. These are the moments that I have my least Christian thoughts.

Monday proves to be a new turn of events because Mr. Penny is not in his usual spot. His friend is there, instead. I walk slowly, searching in either direction for the familiar copper hair. Nothing.

"Excuse me sir, is your friend around?" I ask, kneeling down to speak with him.

"No, no, he is not here. You are the bagel girl, yes?" he asks, eyeing the small paper bag I'm holding. I offer it to him, along with the two waters, and give him my most sincere smile.

"Do you know where he is or how I can reach him?" I ask, as the man starts devouring one of the bagels.

"No, you won't see him for at least a week, I suppose." He swipes at a few crumbs falling into his scruffy grey beard.

"Oh, well, if you see him would you tell him I was looking for him. I'm Bella, the bagel girl." I snicker a little as I realize that Mr. Penny and his friend have a pet name for me.

"You know, we prefer warm coffee in the morning and meat is okay, too, in the bagels, if you have any to spare." He smiles appreciatively up at me as he takes a bite of the second bagel. I wonder if Mr. Penny has something to eat, wherever he is.

"I will try and keep that in mind for my next grocery trip, Mr. ahh?" I ask.

"Pete. Just call me Pete, and I'll be sure to tell Masen you were asking about him. He keeps an eye out for you. H'll sure be sorry he missed you this week." Pete smiles mischeviously. Hmm, Masen, that's an interesting name Masen. I like it.

"Have a blessed day Pete; tomorrow morning coffee and meat, huh?" I ask as I'm walking away.

"Yes ma'am. Bacon, scrapple, steak, ham, cream, sugar, splenda, equal . . . don't matter to me, no how, no way, long as I have some." Pete smiles brightly raising his last bite of bagel and bowing his head to me as I walk away.

Pete is a funny old man who isn't afraid to ask for what he wants. It's refreshing to have such honesty head on. The rest of my day, I'm thinking of all the possibilities of where Penny could be for a week. Did he visit family? Does he have a girlfriend? A wife? A child? Is he in the hospital or sick? Is he helping a friend out of town? Is he in trouble and hiding out or keeping a low profile until shady stuff blows over? This gets me nervous and worrying about him in a whole new way. Where is Mr. Penny?

Tuesday morning finds me carrying a hot cup of coffee with cream and suga,r along with a bacon, egg and cheese bagel from McDonald's. Pete spies me and stands up excitedly when I approach. He's shorter than I would have thought and seems to have a bit more energy than usual. I hand him the bag and coffee as I bid him a good morning.

"So, no word from . . . um, Masen, was it?" I ask.

"Nope, but he'll be out on Thursday morning for sure." Pete sips his coffee and smiles at me in appreciation.

"Out from where? Where did he go?" I ask, realize how nosey I'm being.

"He's in lock up," Pete says. "Not sure for what, but they never keep him more than a few days. It'll do him some good you know. Three meals, a cot and a shower, heck, even some new socks and shorts." He bites into his sandwich and chews slowly, like he's savoring it.

"Oh . . . um . . . well, when he comes back please give him this for me. And you are welcome to come, as well. There will be dinner and bible study, along with a bag lunch to go." I hand him the small program for the church, which advertises the weekly dinner on Thursday nights. It's open to the public and free of charge.

"You a nun, is you? Don't look like no nun to me. Look more like a librarian or a teacher." He says.

"No, no, I'm not a nun or a librarian, but I am a teacher. It's just a dinner that we are going to start having every week during the winter months. We will have coats and blankets, as well, so feel free to tell your friends and bring them with you," I offer.

"I'll see that I do," he says. "Thanks, Teach I'll make sure and tell Masen you invited him special." He winks at me and sips his coffee.

"Thank you. See you tomorrow," I respond as I walk away towards my train.

The rest of my week goes much the same. Every morning I have a brief conversation with Pete as I hand him a sandwich and coffee. He has yet to talk to or see Mr. Penny, whose name I now know is Masen.

At Wednesday's lady's night at church, I tell everyone about my three successful shopping trips to the grocery store. I explain that the three stores we have around town all double coupons up to one dollar. And if you match up your coupons with the weekly sales papers, you can walk away with food and health care products almost for free. I bring in a bag full of items that I got for next to nothing, and explain how I did the transactions for each one. I show them how to read the coupons and the fine print, and explain the different coupon policies for each store.

"This is what I got with my only my news-paper each week. Think of all of the food and products we could get if we worked together and brought in coupons," I offer

"We could ask our coworkers, friends and family to help us collect coupons. We also can partner with our sister church, and ask them to do the same. We can try this and see how much we can get. I watched that show this week and I was amazed by what some of those ladies walked out of the store with," Irina offers.

"We should start a clipping club on Tuesday nights, we could collect the coupons on Mondays and clip on Tuesdays nights. We could collect the coupons on Mondays, clip on Tuesdays and shop on Thursdays so we are ready for the weekend mission meals. Then we can stock the pantry and start with the take-home boxes." Mrs. Cope offers.

"Oh that's a wonderful idea! Each week we could take turns making dinner, much as we do for our Monday luncheons. I'm so excited to get started! This really is a wonderful idea we have and it's coming together so nicely," Mary offers.

"Well, I'm so happy that you all have embraced this idea. I can't tell you how nervous I was about starting up a program here on my own. I know I'm not a mom or a wife, so I wasn't sure if you would take me seriously or not." I confess to the group of seven women, with varying shades of grey hair, who are staring back at me with warm smiles.

"Oh sweatie, you don't have to be a mom or wife to have the instinct to help and be generous. You are a good person and that's all that matters. We can see in your heart how much you put into this, and we take shopping and saving money very seriously, don't we ladies?" Mrs. Cope stands an embraces me in a motherly hug as I wipe away a stray tear.

Thursday morning and there's still no Penny in the subway station. Pete, however, is standing there waiting on me eagerly, bouncing from heel to heel. He smiles brightly with a toothless grin as he takes the coffee and sausage-egg-and-cheese bagel that I made myself this morning using coupon-purchased goods.

"Will I see you at dinner this evening Pete?" I ask as I hand him the coffee and sandwich.

"Absolutely. I told a few friends about your dinner and blankets and such, and so far e about 15 of us are gonna be there. Masen is getting out around noon today, and I'll make sure and let him know about tonight." Pete says through his crumb-covered mustache.

"So I'll see you this evening, then," I say as I turn to leave.

"You got it teach," he calls as I'm walking away. I've never had a nickname before. Just Bella, which I wouldn't count as a nickname because it's just short for Isabella. It feels good to have a nickname, though I'm not sure I like being called "Teach."

Throughout my day at school, I think about Mr. Penny and what he did to get locked up. Pete made it seem like this was something that happened on a regular basis, and it was an acceptable, if not a good, thing. I'm a cop's daughter, so I can't think of it as being a good thing to be locked up behind bars.

Thursday, on my way off of the subway, I see a smiling Pete standing in his usual spot next to a not so happy looking Mr. Penny. I feel like a child approaching the two men, like I have done something wrong or crossed some unspoken line. I smile shyly at Pete and then turn to Mr. Penny as I get closer.

"See, I told you everyday, she comes everyday,y just like I said. Ms. Teach, this is Masen. Masen this is the 'Teach'." Pete gestures between Mr. Penny and I.

"It's nice to meet you." I extend my hand for him to shake. He stares down at it and then into my eyes, and back and forth a few times before taking my hand and shaking it firmly. His hand is cold and thin but still sends a warmth through my hand and arm, ending in my heart.

"You also, Teach?" he asks tentatively.

"Oh, sorry, it's Bella, Bella Swan." I offer smiling, more confident now that I'm not being scolded.

"Beautiful." He says staring me in the eyes.

"Huh?" I ask dumbfounded, losing all train of thought.

"Your name, it means beautiful." He clarifies.

"Oh, right, yes, I suppose it does. It's nice to see you back. I hope you can make dinner tonight at the church," I offer hoping that Pete told him about the dinner tonight.

"Yes, we will be there. Is there anything we should bring or do to help out?" he asks.

"Ummm, not really, but sometimes people stay after for clean-up duty, dishes and trash pick up." I say.

"Put us down for that then; 6:30 right?" he asks to verify.

"Oh, right, yeah, I should probably get going. I have to start cooking. It's good to finally meet you. I look forward to seeing you tonight, take care." I rush off waving my hand over my shoulder at the two men.

Mr. Penny, or Masen, nods in agreement and tips his hat to me. I notice now that he looks cleaner and his hair is shorter. His cheeks look a little more filled in and his clothes have been washed. It gets me to thinking that jail might not be a bad place once in a while for someone living on the streets.

I rush home, load up my truck with my many coupon bounties, and head to the church. The teenagers unload the truck and organize the pantry, and soon I find myself cooking along with Irina and Mary. Tonight's menu is BBQ meatballs, pasta, garlic bread, and peas. It might not be the most exciting meal, but I have to say that it will feed well over 50 people and cost under $30. I'm proud to show my receipt to the ladies, as we stir our sauces and take bread from the oven. They "ooh" and "ah" at my efforts and congratulate me.

Around 6:20, people start spilling in from outside. The final count of new guests is 23, plus 14 from church who are here tonight. We feed 37 people with plenty left over. I see Masen and Pete at one of the tables, but I somehow missed them when I was serving the food. They are both eating at a table with other men, talking amongst themselves. Pastor Art clanks his knife on a glass of ice tea to get everyone's attention as he stands to say a few words.

"I would like to take this time to offer a prayer and bless the food that we are eating. If we can all bow our heads and join hands. Lord, thank you for the food we are receiving and let it nourish our bodies. We ask you, Lord, to watch over our friends and family who could not be with us here tonight, and that they as well may have food to nourish their bodies. Lord, we also thank you for blessing us with our sweet angel Bella. Without her frugal and kind heart, this meal would not be possible. In Jesus' name we pray. Amen." As soon as he finishes, I hear the consensus of "amens" throughout the dining hall and feel several eyes on me. I look around the room and see several familiar faces smiling and nodding at me.

My eyes stop on a pair of green ones sparkling from across the hall. Masen's eyes are showing admiration and gratitude. I smile at him and mouth a "Hi." as I give him a small wave with my fingers. He smiles, waves and mouths "Hi" back to me.

When I finally sit to eat, I find myself thinking about the past month. As happy as I am about the acceptance and startup of my coupon program, and the success of tonight's dinner, I realize that Masen being here, and that smile he just gave me, are truly the icing on the cake.


	3. Chapter 3

A Mission Heart

Chapter 3: Trusting A Stranger

As we are finishing up our meal, the pastor encourages everyone to take seconds and thirds because there is so much left over. I find myself back in the kitchen packing up leftovers for people to take with them. Across the hall, the Community Closet room door is open. Irina's husband George is helping a few less fortunate souls find coats to fit and grab blankets to take with them. I see that Masen is helping Pete try on a new coat and hat. He looks up and notices me observing him. He smiles and nods in my direction. I nod in return and hold up some leftovers for him to take.

Masen excuses himself from Pete and walks over to me slowly and cautiously, trying not to bump into the crowd of people in the hallway.

"Thank you for inviting us tonight; it was delicious." Masen's voice is smooth and strong.

"You're welcome. I'm glad that you were able to make it," I say shyly.

"Is there anything that Pete and I can do to help clean up?" Masen offers.

"Sure, you can help Walter and the teens clean up in the dining hall and take out the trash." I point him in the direction of the Pastor's son Walter, who waves at us.

Masen turns to get Pete and both of them head into the dining hall. About half an hour later, I am done packing up the leftovers and loading the dish washer with what will fit. I start hand washing the rest.

"Do you need any help in here?" Masen asks from the doorway of the kitchen.

"You can dry if you like." I offer.

"Sure, no problem." Masen picks up a dishtowel and takes a wet dish from me.

"I hope you can make it to the church service on Sunday; we have lunch after, as well." I offer him this invitation as I hand him the pot that I've been scrubbing.

"I should be able to make it. So you're a teacher, huh?" Masen asks.

"Yes, middle school English," I reply, giving him a warm smile.

"Do you have kids?" he asks.

"No, no kids here, and no husband or boyfriend, either. I'm a loner - like to keep my options open, you know?" I wink at him, nudge him with my hip and let out a silly giggle.

"Sorry. I'm being too nosey. I didn't mean to pry into your personal life." he apologizes

"Don't worry about it; I'm an open book. What about you? Kids, wife, girlfriend, boyfriend, mistress?" I ask curiously.

"No, none of those. It's just me." He smiles shyly and looks down at the dish he is drying. I see a blush creep up his neck and settle on his cheeks.

"Is Pete your dad?" I ask because it's been bugging me what their relationship is.

"No, he just sort of showed me the ropes on the streets." He replies.

"If you don't mind me asking, how long have you been living on the streets?" I take a deep breath and hold it as I wait for his response.

"Um, I think it's been three years. I'm not too sure." He looks confused as he stares straight ahead and his brow furrows.

"What happened? I mean, where did you live before, you know, on the streets?" I asked tentatively.

"I don't know." he replies, reaching for the next dish that I'm holding out.

"What do you mean, you don't know? How can you not know? If you don't want to tell me, I understand, but you can't not know." I reply, getting frustrated that he would lie.

He sets the dish down and drags both his hands through his hair. I immediately feel like an insensitive a-hole. I set the last dish that I'm washing down in the sink and dry my hands on my apron. I reached my hand to his shoulder, and turn him to face me. His expression is confused and sad as his fingers tug at his messy hair.

"I'm sorry," I say. "I didn't mean to pry. If you don't know, you don't know. Please forgive me I have a big mouth and it just runs and runs. I don't know how to keep it quiet. I'm so sorry." I'm rubbing his arm up and down trying to sooth his discomfort.

"Can we sit down for a minute?" he asks in a small voice.

"Sure, of course, come here." I lead him into the now empty and dark dining hall where we take a seat at the closest table. I bring my chair to sit facing his. We both take a seat slowly with our knees touching. Touched by his apparent willingness to share, I reach for his hands and hold them. He's resting his elbows on his thighs, and when he raises his head, our eyes lock. His eyes are red and fighting to hold back tears, and it's breaking my heart.

"I don't . . . I mean . . . I can't remember anything before living on the streets. Pete found me in a suit walking along the bridge on the other side of town. I don't remember anything or anyone. Do I have parents, brothers, sisters, a wife, kids, pets, a house? I've been to the hospital and I didn't have a wallet or I.D., so I don't even know where I'm from." His hands are shaking and his eyes have given up trying to hold back the tears.

"I'm so sorry," I reply. I rub small circles across his knuckles and feel my heart crack into a million pieces. I can't imagine how he feels or what he's been through; to not know who you are or where you're from. I think of my dad and my uncles, my mother and my annoying friends. What would I do if one day I woke up and I couldn't remember any of them?

I instinctively scoot closer and embrace Masen in a comforting hug. I feel his face rest in my hair as I bring him closer. I run my fingers softly through his hair as he wraps his arms around me. We stay like this for a matter of minutes, though I'm not sure how many. I hear the door to the dining hall open and footsteps walking towards us. We pull away slowly, our faces brushing. My hair is sticking to his wet cheeks. I reach up to smooth my hair down as he wipes his eyes and face on a sleeve.

"So, you told her your story?" I hear Pete's voice. Masen nods in response at his friend, who is now standing a few feet away from us, wearing his new coat.

"It's a sad tale, but you caught on pretty quickly, kid. Now you're keeping track of me, huh?" Pete nudges Masen in the shoulder and gets a small smile, as the two men regard one another with a comfortable familiarity.

"Well, I'm headed to the bridge for the night. I'll see you at the station tomorrow if the weather holds." Pete squeezes Masen's shoulder and turns to leave after thanking me again for the dinner invitation.

A few minutes pass and we sit in silence as he collects himself emotionally. I take this time to closely observe him. He has long limbs that stretch out around him awkwardly. His eyebrows are very expressive, the hair darker than that on his head. His lips are a red, almost as if he were wearing lipstick but its natural. His skin is pale and smooth, and his arms have a light sprinkling of hair.

"We should probably finish cleaning up in the kitchen," he offers, as we stand to return to the kitchen.

"You can go if you have to be somewhere," I say. "I can finish up, there isn't much left."

"No, I want to stay and help, if that's okay?" he asks.

"Yes, I'd like the company," I reply.

We continue to wash and dry the dishes, pots and pans. It doesn't take us long to finish. I glance at the clock and see that it's now 9:30 p.m. Strangely, I'm not tired at all. Pastor Cope comes in to thank me for everything. I take this opportunity to introduce him to Masen.

"This is Masen," I say. "He sort of inspired the dinner and the couponing." I gesture to Masen and notice the shocked look on his face. I think I may have embarrassed him.

"It's nice to meet you. I'm glad you were able to come this evening. I hope you got a chance to sit it on the bible study." Pastor Cope takes Masen's hand and shakes it firmly, expressing the warm fatherliness that he exudes to all of his parishioners.

"I did catch the end of it," Masen says shyly. "Thank you for inviting all of us; it was very generous."

"I should be thanking you for the inspiration. God works in mysterious ways. It seems that he or she saw fit to put you in our lives for a reason. It helped quite a few people this evening. I do hope that you can attend our Sunday service this weekend," Pastor offers.

"I'll be there if the weather holds. I'd like to learn more," Masen admits.

"That sounds wonderful. Bella, may I see you in my office for a moment?" Pastor asks. "It seems that you've had quite a response to your coupons requests and I'm running out of room."

I follow Pastor Art into his office, where I find three boxes full of coupon inserts. I'm a bit overwhelmed. I never thought that I would get this much of a response so quickly.

"Where did all of these come from?" I ask.

"Everywhere, dear, everywhere." Pastor Art replies. "Now you have got to get these out of here. I was thinking we would set up a bin in the dining hall for people to drop them off," he suggests.

"That would probably be best. I still can't believe we got all of these. I can only imagine how much food I can buy." I'm still in awe.

I rush from his office to the dining hall and find Masen sweeping the kitchen and straightening up.

"Would you mind helping me load these boxes into my truck?" I ask.

"Sure, just give me one minute." He empties the dustpan into the trash and puts the items away before turning to me expectantly.

Masen follows me to Art's office and helps me load the boxes in the bed of my truck.

"We are going to lock up now, do you have anything inside?" Art asks.

"Just one more box and my purse." Masen and I quickly retrieve our stuff and the last box before Art locks up for the night.

I wave to Art and his family as they drive off in his mini-van. Masen loads the last box into the truck next to the rest. I hop up on the tire and peer into the bed and smile. I am excited to start clipping and checking out all the new deals I can find. I remember that I am not alone and turn to face Masen. He is standing by the curb watching me closely, and I feel like I've been caught misbehaving.

"Hi. Sorry about that. I got lost in my coupons." I giggle shyly.

"It's nice to see you excited; it's refreshing," he responds with a smile. "I should get going." I'm panicked because I don't want him to go. I don't want him to go back out into the street. It's cold. I have to find away to take him home. I have two extra bedrooms in my house, granted no beds in them, but I have a couch.

"Would you mind helping me bring the boxes into my dining room?" I ask.

"Are you sure?" Masen asks, looking me in the eyes as if searching for something.

"Yes. I trust you." I square my shoulders, meet his gaze and smile brightly. He nods and walks towards me. I hope in my truck and unlock the passenger door for him. His long legs barely fit in the front seat. I have the bench pulled close because I'm so short. I reach down and slide it back as far as I can and still reach the pedals.

I turn the radio on to the weather broadcast as I make the short drive to my house. We hear loud beeps for the broadcast warning system, followed by a storm watch and curfew alert. There is a severe snow storm in the process of hitting our area. I am thankful that I have my truck with its four-wheel drive and chains in the bed for the tires. I glance over at Masen to see him looking out of the window at the snow falling in curtains around us. I assume he is worried about his friends and where he will be sleeping tonight. This was not the best day to get out of jail. I'm brought out of my worried thoughts by my phone ringing. I answer it while being cautious and driving slowly on the now snow covered streets.

"Ange, what's up?" I ask the phone.

"Bella, oh, thank goodness I got you! Are you able to get out on the road?" she asks

"Yes. I'm driving back from church now. Is everything all right?" I notice the panic in her voice.

"Yes, yes, everything is fine. It's just that I'm stranded out by the highway. I had to pull over because my car was sliding all over the road. Ben is already out on the other side of town salting streets and plowing. I was wondering if you could give me a lift back home," she asks

"Sure. What exit are you near?" I get the directions and turn my truck around to go rescue my friend. I explain to Masen that we need to make a pit stop to pick up Angela. He is quiet and nods his head in agreement. He seems nervous and fidgety.

I see Angela's flashing lights as we pull up alongside her small two door car. She really needs to switch to a four-door or an SUV now that she is expecting their first child. I get out of the truck to help her with her things. She was on her way home from work and is struggling with her suitcase and hospital bag. Angela is always prepared for everything except the weather, apparently.

"Ange, this is Masen., Masen, this is 'Prego Ange'." I laugh gingerly trying to lighten the obvious tension now in my truck. Angela is squished in the middle and eyeing Masen cautiously.

"Nice to meet you. I hope, I wasn't interrupting anything." She says to Masen.

"You as well. No, it was no interruption," he responds shyly and returns to looking out the window. We drive in silence as my truck trudges along over the snow. The radio is still blaring news reports of local power outages and abandoned cars along the sides of roads. It warns people to stay off the roads and to stay at home until at least one o'clock tomorrow afternoon.

We pull up to Angela's house, and I get out helping her inside. Masen exits to allow Angela to pass and catches her arm before she slips on the icy sidewalk. Angela steadies herself on her feet and thanks him sincerely. The two of them smile at one another sharing a friendly moment. After we are inside of Ben and Angela's home, we notice that the power is out. Angela calls her husband Ben and they talk for a few moments discussing what she should do.

I interrupt her conversation politely. "Angela, why don't you pack a bag and come stay with me. I have the back-up generator if my power is out, and I don't want you staying here alone in this. What if you go into labor or freeze to death?" I ask worried.

Angela smiles at me warmly and embraces me in a tight hug. She explains to Ben that she will be at my house. I ask Masen to follow me down to their basement, where I know they have some camping equipment, while Angela grabs a flashlight to go upstairs and pack a bag.

I'm using my bright flashlight app on my fancy android phone. My dad got me the phone for my birthday, and I'm grateful for once that this contraption is working properly. I locate the fullsize air mattress and the camping lanterns. Masen helps me carry the items upstairs and secure them in the back of the truck. I place my tarp over the boxes of coupons, hoping that they won't be ruined. I go back inside followed closely by Masen to check on Angela's progress. We make our way upstairs where she is just finishing up and dragging her large suitcase across the carpeted floor. She looks ridiculous and adorable all at the same time. I go to take it from her, but can barely move it faster than she did. I glance up to see Masen watching us with an amused smile on his face.

"A true gentlemen would carry the bags without being asked," I say jokingly and place my hands on my hips. Masen silently approaches, shewing us with his long fingers to move out of his way. The three of us descend the stairs with Masen bringing up the rear, easily carrying the suitcase. Men, they are good for something other than sex! I'll have to remind Jessica the next time I see her.

Finally, after locking up Angela's house and loading her things in my truck, we make it to my house. It's a three-story row house that is mostly liveable. I see that the porch light is still on. I'm thankful to still have power in this blistering storm. Masen helps me unload all of the bags, boxes and suitcases, while Angela turns up the heat and makes a pot of coffee in my kitchen.

After enjoying the coffee and warming up a bit, Angela excuses herself to freshen up, leaving Masen and I alone in my living room.

"I should get going. Thank you again for the dinner, coffee and the uh … adventure." He stands up to leave and I panic.

"Where are you going? You can't go out in that storm!" I say louder than I intended. He turns around looking defeated.

"I'll be all right. You don't have to worry about me. I've survived three years on the streets," he informs me.

"I don't care. Why would you want to go out into that when you can stay here where it's warm and dry?" I ask.

"It's not a matter of _want;_ it's the way it is," he arugues, all traces of the playful bellhop gone.

"Well, a true gentlemen would not leave two helpless women - one being pregnant - here alone to fend for themselves in a dreadful storm," I state. "What if the wolves descend? Who will protect us?" I ask, placing my hands on my hips and tilting my head to look at him in my most pouty face. This usually works on my dad and uncles. I'm hoping all men are affected by this demeanor.

"Are you sure you want me to stay here? You don't even know me, Bella. You shouldn't be so trusting of strangers." He says this firmly, but I see him starting to crack.

"I trust you. You gave me back my wallet, and you had me alone in my truck. If you wanted to hurt me or rob me, you would have done it by now. You won't hurt us." I respond confidently and his face relaxes.

"I'm not a true gentlemen, I'm a bad guy." He says while placing his knapsack down by the front door and hanging his coat on the rack.

"We'll leave the judging up to the Lord, now lets get this bed inflated." I turn towards the pile of camping equipment and start to unfold the mattress.

We work in silence until the bed is inflated and I'm satisfied that it has no holes. We drink another cup of coffee when Angela returns, now dressed in flannel pajamas and fuzzy slippers. She places her hospital emergency bag by the door, just in case. I leave the two of them to chat in the kitchen as I go upstairs to collect sheets, blankets and pillows. In no time I've made up the sofa and the air mattress.

Now, I wish I were farther along with the remodeling. I may have a three-story townhouse, but I only have one bedroom finished and furnished. The other two need drywall, and the vents are still blocked off. I bought this house from my uncle's friend at a very cheap price. I have slowly been fixing it up, but I've been waiting for the summer when I'm off school to really dig into getting it together. Angela starts to settle herself on the sofa and I have to stop her.

"Angela, you can't possibly sleep on that, you're pregnant," I protest.

"Bella, its fine. The air mattress would be worse because, I wouldn't be able to get up. The sofa is fine." She laughs and rubs her swollen belly.

"No, I mean that you are sleeping in my room upstairs near the bathroom." I offer.

"Bella, I can't do that to you. You've already done so much. You should sleep in your own bedroom," she argues with me.

"I know how you preggers get, and I'm not leaving you down here to take advantage of poor Masen," I tease her. "Here now, up you go." I help her up the stairs as she continues to protest. When we enter my room she closes the door and turns to me with knowing eyes.

"Who is he? What is he doing here? Bella, what are you thinking?" she asks concerned. I knew she had no plans of sleeping in a room with a strange man. She was just being polite.

"Nothing! Relax before you pop. His name is Masen and h's a good guy. He was at the church tonight for the dinner." I try to convince her, but she is set on being worried.

"Bella, you don't know anything about him. If your father knew about this, he would be up here in a heartbeat with his shotgun, I have half a mind to call him right now," she threatens.

"Oh, don't you dare, or I'll call Ben right now and tell him about your bachelorette party. I can play this game, too, you know." I'm holding my phone up but bluffing about calling Ben.

"You wouldn't!" she exclaims.

"I would. Now if you're so worried, lock the bedroom door. Masen is perfectly harmless." I give her a hug and turn to leave.

"Bella, you're not sleeping with him are you, you know, having sex?" she asks curiously.

"No, why would you think that?" I ask, confused.

"Bella he's fucking gorgeous! Did you see those eyes and those lips? How can you not be fucking him?" She is fanning herself with her hand to calm her raging prego hormones.

"Look, prego, not all of us are horncrazed baby machines. So reign in your libido and calm down. Yes, I noticed that he is mildly attractive, and yes, I have noticed his eyes and his lips and his fingers and his chin and his hair . . . Wait one minute! You were all worried about being murdered and now you're pimping me out?" I ask, narrowing my eyes at her

"Well, I mean, if he's here and all, might as well make the best of it; just make sure to use a condom." She giggles and climbs in my bed.

"Goodnight Angela. You want the door locked?" I ask as I'm leaving the room.

"No, I'll be fine. He won't come up here when he has your little non prego ass down there. Goodnight Bella, and thanks, again. At least get a kiss; I have to live vicariously through you now." She winks mischievously at me.

I close the bathroom door while I change my clothes and brush my teeth. I am now in a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. I add my big fluffy warm socks with the grippers at the bottom so I don't slide on the hardwood floor. When I come downstairs, I see Masen in the kitchen washing the coffee cups we used. I take a seat on one of the stools under the kitchen island and watch him closely. I don't think he noticed me because of the water running, so. I take in his tall body and long limbs. He seems to have gained some weight in the past couple of weeks. I recall Angela's words about his lips and eyes. He is very handsome. His eyes are a bright green and his lips are red and plump, no matter when you look at them. I feel my body reacting to my thoughts and chastise myself. I'm not this type of person. I don't live my life filled with lust. I want substance and meaning, not just a pretty face and a hard body.

I don't care what is on the outside. I think back to the guys I have dated and there is no type. I've dated guys who are tall, short, thin, fat, black, white, and even blind. All of these men had one thing in common. They were good people and had good hearts. For whatever reason, it didn't work out with any of them. I kissed them to express my affection and we held hands. I've even gone to second base with a little groping, but it all ends the same with every relationship, regardless of how nice the guy is. He is never willing to wait. It's always the same. I humph to myself and notice that Masen has turned around and is watching me intently as he dries his hands on the dish towel.

I smile up at him, not sure how to act around him now that I've acknowledge my physical attraction to him. H's smiling down at me warmly, and I can't fathom what he must be thinking.

"What are you thinking?" I ask.

"I shouldn't have had the coffee because now I'm wide awake." Masen smiles at me as he takes the seat next to me.

"Me either. What do you want to do?" I ask.

"Whatever you want to do is fine." He offers.

"We could watch a movie or play cards?" I suggest.

"A movie sounds good. You pick. I'm not up to date on movies these days." Masen stands and walks into the living room taking a seat on the couch.

I turn off the lights around the house and plop myself on my stomach on the inflated mattress. I swing my legs back and forth in the air as I flip channels to see what is on. Masen is sitting on the couch stiffly looking uncomfortable and awkward. I scoot over on the mattress and pat the space next to me for him to join me. He stares at me blankly for a few moments.

"Grab your pillow and join me. I won't bite you, I promise." I say. He leans forward to rest his arms along his thighs and looks up at me.

"Bella, what exactly do you want from me?" he asks quietly. I'm more than confused by his question and I'm not sure how to respond.

"What do you mean?" I ask. He takes a deep breath and kneels on the floor in front of the bed, resting his hand on my shoulder. He trails is fingers slowly down my arm resting them on my wrist and turning my hand face up. Masen looks me in the eyes while trailing small circles with his thumb along my wrist. The sensation is making my entire body tingle and my stomach is doing flip flops. I can feel myself react to this small gesture. My chest is moving up and down as my heart races faster and faster. My mouth has gone dry and I feel an ache in my chastity belt area.

"What do you expect from me here tonight with you?" He asks with a husky voice. His breath fans across my face making my body react faster to him. It takes me a moment before I realize what he is asking me.

I instinctively pull away from him, unable to hide my shock that he would think I expected sexual favors in return for a warm place to sleep. The thought makes me nauseous I can hardly form words.

"What kind of person do you think I am? How could you think that? That . . . that's . . . disgusting. I would never . . . , I could never . . . Oh shit! That's not what I want from you." I respond quickly and louder than I intended. I see the hurt, then relief, wash across his face as he stands and walks towards the door.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean anything by it. I just didn't know what you wanted from me. I'm sorry." He puts on his coat and picks up his bag, preparing to leave.

"Where the hell are you going?" I whisper shout as I scurry over to him, taking his bag from his hands.

"I'm leaving. I shouldn't be here. It's not a good idea. I don't know you; you don't know me. I didn't mean to insult you, I'm just not used to people being this nice and open without expecting, you know something in return," he says. I place my hands on his jacket and push it off his shoulders, hanging it back up. I take his hand and lead him back to the sofa in silence. I can feel the tension radiating between the two of us and I have to find a way to diffuse it.

I push him down to the sofa, where he sits stiffly, looking up at me expectantly. He's unsure of what I'm doing. I sit closely beside him and pull the blanket up to our chests. I use the remote to turn on reruns of "Bing Bang Theory", before lifting his arm and snuggling into his side. I rest my head against his shoulder, my hand on his chest, ready to watch television.

"Friendship Masen. That's all I want."


	4. Chapter 4

A Mission Heart

Chapter 4: Trusting A Stranger

I woke up snuggled on the couch hugging a pillow. Stretching out my legs, wiggle my toes and moan while stretching and flexing my limbs. As I settle back into my snuggled position, I slowly opened my eyes and see green orbs staring back at me. Mr. Penny is lying stretched out on the air mattress. He's facing towards the sofa with his head propped up on his hand. He is staring intently, deep in thought, as a smile spreads across his face.

"You talk in your sleep," he says. "Did you know that?"

"Someone might have mentioned it once or twice before," I respond, feeling my cheeks burn red as he continues to stare and smile at me. I'm panicking, wondering what I said in my sleep to cause him to smile like that. I think back to the previous night's realization of my physical attraction to him. I'm so hoping that I did not say something about that as I was sleep talking.

"What did I say?" I ask.

"Who is Mr. Penny?" he responds.

I'm immediately mortified! I hide my face in my pillow and mumble, "You." I sneak a peek at him from under my pillow. This causes him laugh deeply, rolling over onto his back, clutching his sides. I frown in frustration thinking it's not that funny.

I throw my pillow at him then head for the bathroom, leaving him laughing and rolling on the air mattress. I can't help but have non-Christian thoughts, hoping that the mattress pops and he ends up on the cold floor. I know I'm acting like a hurt child; no one likes to be laughed at. After using the downstairs bathroom and rinsing my mouth with Scope, I head to the kitchen to start a pot of coffee.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I couldn't help it. Why Mr. Penny?" He asks as he enters the kitchen with a huge smile plastered across his face.

"If you must know, it's because of your hair color. It's not red or brown, it's copper like a penny. I didn't know your name so I named you Mr. Penny." I respond smugly, trying to avoid his eyes as they follow my movements around the kitchen.

He nods in understanding, still smiling. I like to see him smile, don't get me wrong, but it's starting to irritate me that it seems to be at my expense. After the pot is brewing I walk towards the living room to look out the window and take in the damage from the snowstorm. The world is covered in white sparkly stuff. I can't see a thing; not even the street. There must be at least two or three feet of snow out there. I glance to the right and can't distinguish between the sidewalk and my front porch. I'm assuming that there is no school today, but I turn the television on anyway to watch the news report.

Mr. Penny joins me in the living room carrying two cups of coffee. He hands me one and takes a seat next to me on the sofa, propping his long legs up on the air mattress. I notice that his sock-covered feet are long and wonder what size shoe he wears. I slowly drag my gaze up his legs taking in the length of him. He is quite tall.

"How tall are you?" I ask casually while sipping my coffee, which he has magically prepared to my taste. He must have paid attention to how I like my coffee the night before.

"Six foot, four inches," he replies proudly, puffing out his chest in amusement.

"It's not fair," I huff as I try and reach my legs out to rest them on the air mattress. They don't quite reach. He laughs next to me and pulls the mattress closer, allowing me to rest my feet on the edge.

"Thanks," I offer, trying not to meet his gaze as he smiles down at me. I am finding our banter very comfortable and easy. It's not like a brother and sister or a couple, but I am aware that we both are very comfortable with one another. I return his smile as I lean back against the sofa. I lean to the right resting my shoulder against his arm. He slowly lifts his arm and rests it on the back of the sofa, allowing me to snuggle into his warm side. We sit there in silence sipping our coffee and watching the news report on the storm.

The city is pretty much shut down. There are school closings throughout the county and state, along with most agencies and businesses. I think about all the homeless people out there, under the bridge and around the city. I glance up at Masen, thankful that he is here with me safe and warm. I find myself snuggling closer to him for comfort. His arm resting on the sofa wraps around me and brings me closer, is hand resting on my arm.

"I'm glad you're here." I say. "Do you think Pete is all right?"

"Yes," he says "Pete is fine. He went to the bridge with the others. It's covered and we have a camp set up with fires. We survived last year's storm there and it was worse than this." He rubs my arm reassuringly.

"So, tell me about yourself. Why did you become a teacher?" he asks.

"I like to read a lot and there isn't much to do with an English degree except teach. I like kids, so I ended up teaching English," I respond.

"How long have you been a teacher?" he asks.

"Three years," I say.

"Where are your parents? Siblings?" he asks.

"Well, my parents are divorced; my mom is remarried and travels most of the time with her husband, who plays major league baseball," I say. "I'm an only child. I have two uncles on my father's side, and that is who raised me."

"You were raised by three men?" he asks.

"Not entirely. I had my grandmother until recently and my mom was in the picture a lot. I spent summers traveling with her and Phil," I respond.

"Where's the restroom?" he asks.

I show him where the downstairs restroom is, then excuse myself to go upstairs to check on Angela. Finding my bedroom door is open, I knock softly.

"Come on in," she responds sounding muffled.

I enter my room not seeing her anywhere, but notice that my walk-in closet door is open. Taking a tentative glance inside, I find Angela sitting cross legged on my carpeted floor surrounded by boxes of my unpacked clothes.

"Bella! Seriously, you haven't even taken the tags off most of these. I got you this like three years ago for Christmas. Do you know what I wouldn't give to be able to fit into some of these? We are totally going through these today," Angela announces.

"Oh, no you don't! I'm not going to be your personal Barbie because you got knocked up," I defend.

"Oh, yes you are, you owe me. I didn't wake you up when I walked downstairs. I saw you two all cuddled up on the couch. Friends my ass! Bella, you are so giving it up for him I just know it." She is teasing me now.

"When did you come downstairs?" I ask, trying to gain more information and maybe a glimpse of what I might have said while I was sleeping.

"In the middle of the night, around three a.m. I wanted to get the charger for my phone. You were snuggled against his chest, your arm wrapped around his neck and your fingers were all entwined in his hair." She points at me waving her finger up and down gesturing to my body.

"Was he awake?" I ask.

"He was asleep when I came down, but I think I woke him up because he asked me if I was all right and if I needed him to wake you. I told him no and that I was just grabbing my charger. We had a nice little chat until you started blabbing about money." she said.

"You mean Mr. Penny? wait what were you two talking about?" I ask.

"Yes, Mr. Penny. We chatted about you and how sweet you are, and how trusting, and how one day you are going to trust the wrong person and get yourself into trouble," she scolds.

"I trust him." Is all I say in defense.

"That's fine, but if I hadn't come down you might as well have climbed on top of him and dry humped him, the way you were clinging to him. He set you on the sofa and tucked you in," she says. "Masen, would you please come up here a moment?" she yells loudly.

"What are you doing?" I ask, panicked.

"He's going to carry down these boxes so you can go through them. Then we can decide what you are keeping and what you are donating. Why don't you go whip us up some breakfast, huh? Make yourself useful for a change." Angela pokes me in the ribs tickling me. I know she is joking around, much like she always does, but I'm starting to believe that pregnancy has turned her into a meddling mother already.

Masen appears in the bedroom doorway peeking in with his hands resting on the frame. His broad shoulders fill an impressive amount of the doorway.

"Is everything all right ladies?" he asks brightly. His face looks freshly washed and his hair is a little damp.

"Yes, everything is fine; I need your assistance getting these boxes of clothes to the living-room." Angela requests. "Bella is going to give us a fashion show.".

Masen looks at me questioningly, but makes his way around me to the closet. I roll my eyes at Angela and wave both of them off as I leave the room to cook up some breakfast.

I keep in mind that Masen doesn't usually eat much, and I want to fatten him up. I prepare a large breakfast with plenty of calories and protein. I make pancakes, omelets, bacon, scrapple and hash browns. I see Masen walking back and forth bringing boxes down as Angela bosses him around and direct him where to put things. Apparently, she is building a nest around the reclining chair in the living-room. Masen props the air mattress against the wall out of the way and arranges the boxes per Angela's instructions. I feel she is taking advantage of his kindness, and remind myself to mention it to her later.

"Breakfast is ready," I yell towards the living room.

They both emerge, Angela taking a seat at the table while Masen gathers drinks for us. We sit, dish out our meal and I say grace. Angela informs us that Ben called to check on her and that he is sleeping at the SHA garage for a few hours before heading out to plow some more. Ben works for the city on the road crew. He is getting paid a lot in overtime during this storm and Angela is talking about how it will help with the new baby and all those diapers and other needed items.

The rest of our day progresses slowly as I try on outfit after outfit for Angela to pick apart and discard or keep. She makes a show of asking Masen for his opinion on several of the more dressy and form-fitting ones. I am standing in the downstairs bathroom which has been transformed into my dressing room. I look in the mirror for the third time and can't bring myself to open the door. I am wearing a slinky blue silk dress that is cut very low in the front and back. I feel the tag itching the small of my back and I remember opening this last Christmas, a gift from my mother.

"Bella just come on, it can't be that bad." Angela yells from the living room where she and Masen are clipping coupons for me. I insisted that, if I was going to be changing my clothes a million times today, that she could at least clip coupons for me. Masen, being ever the gentlemen offered to help.

"No, it's not me; I'm not coming out there in this," I respond, peeking my head out.

"Bella it most certainly doesn't show anymore than a bathing suit would. Now get your ass out here!" she demands.

"Are you going to curse like that once your baby pops out?" I ask.

"No, of course not, now come on before you stress me out and I go into labor," she threatens.

"Fine!" I huff the air out of my lungs, causing my hair to fly away from my face. I walk slowly into the living room looking everywhere but at the two of them. I am tugging the fabric at my sides to keep it from clinging to my body.

"Stop fidgeting with it and let me see how it fits," Angela says. She walks over to me and smoothes my hair away from my face. Then, she pulls it up into a bun. I feel a chill across my neck as the blush creeps up my body.

"Masen, a male opinion please?" She asks him. Masen clears his throat and looks up at me. I can feel his eyes moving across my body taking in every inch of the fabric and how it clings to my curves.

"It's beautiful, but it's not her," he responds, giving me a smile. I mouth the words "thank you" to him.

"Fine, donate it then. You know you're going to have to keep one nice dress," Angela says.

I scurry away to remove the dress, thankful to be rid of it. The rest of the day goes by much the same with us breaking for lunch. We have grilled cheese, tomato soup and a salad. I make sure to give Masen two sandwiches and extra soup. I offer him a chance to do some laundry and take a shower if he wants, while Angela and I are engrossed in a chic-flick on the Lifetime channel. He accepts and disappears upstairs for his shower, returning a half an hour later and looking more relaxed than I have ever seen him. He is wearing grey sweatpants and a plain white t-shirt. I notice his arms and wrists are not as thin as they used to be; the muscles in his arms move when he lifts his bag of clothes. My heart quickens as I notice his physical attributes. I take a few deep breaths to calm myself, then I show him to the basement where he can do his laundry.

While his clothes are washing, Masen takes a seat on the recliner and writes in his notebook. During the movie I glance at his notebook. It resembles a spiral binder but has pages and folders tucked inside. A few pieces of paper stick out, too big to fit inside. I wonder what he is writing. Returning my attention to the movie, I laugh along at the funny parts and find myself tearing up towards the end. Angela passes me a tissue instinctively as we both wipe our eyes and noses. I turn my attention to Masen, who is watching both Angela and I. He smiles at me and returns to writing in his book.

Masen retreats to the basement to put his clothes in the dryer, then stops by the kitchen on his way back up to visit me. I'm staring into the fridge trying to decide what to make for dinner while Angela takes a nap.

"What is your most favorite food to eat?" I ask him as he takes a seat on the barstool at the island.

"I remember lasagna; my mother made the best lasagna," he responds, staring off into deep thought. A small smile tugs at his lips as he remembers something.

"Do you remember your mother?" I ask.

"I've gotten this glimpse of a woman's face, but I'm not sure who she is. She could be my mother, an aunt, a sister . . . anybody really." He shrugs. " All of the faces I remember seem familiar, but I can't place who they are. I don't remember any names. I think that my father was a doctor of some sort; he wore a white lab coat. My mother cooks a lot and I know I have a sister, but other than that . . . that's all I've got."

"Maybe we should make lasagna then. It might jog a memory or something," I offer.

Masen's eyes light up and he agrees to try. He helps me make dinner and we chat about the snow. I tell him more about my family and life growing up. He asks a lot of questions, and I feel comfortable sharing my life's story with him. We share small smiles and glances at one another as we work in unison to prepare our meal. I show him how to lay the noodles in the pan and how to brown the meat. He remembers some things as we progress in our cooking. I notice that he is smiling a lot today and it makes me feel warm and fuzzy. I hear Angela's phone ring and her having a conversation upstairs as we put the lasagna into the oven.

A few minutes later Angela descends the stairs looking refreshed and still very pregnant. Masen and I have decided to make a salad and garlic bread. He is chopping vegetables while I am preparing the bread for the oven.

"Well you will be rid of me come morning," Angela says as she takes a seat at the kitchen table. "Ben is coming to pick me up in the morning and take me to my parent's house. It's closer to the hospital and they have power."

"Are you sure you want to go out in this?" I ask. "What about your car?"

"He already towed it to the SHA garage. I'll be fine; I need to go drive my mother crazy for awhile. Since the twins went off to college she has an empty nest. I need to remind her of what a whining baby is like before this one pops out." She rubs her belly and smiles brightly at me.

"All right, if you're sure. I'll miss you. You promise to call me when you go into labor, right? I'm the backup coach and I'm all prepared to hold your hand while you do all the work." I remind her of my responsibility as her back up Lamaze coach.

"I wouldn't dream of bringing this baby into the world without its Aunt Bella ready to spoil it rotten once it arrives. Who else is going to fuss at all the nurses? Ben will probably be passed out!" she jokes about her husband's squeamishness.

After dinner we gather in the living room to watch television and clip coupons again. When start to yawn, I excuse myself to take a shower and get changed for bed. In the bathroom I notice that the towel Masen used is hanging up to dry, and the rest of the room looks exactly as it did before. I'm impressed by the man's ability to keep the bathroom clean. I grew up around my father and two uncles, and let's just say that cleanliness in the bathroom was not high on their priority list. After my shower I change into a pair of warm flannel pajama pants and a plain t-shirt. I keep my bra off because my breasts aren't so big that it's noticeable, and Iast night it was uncomfortable wearing it. Downstairs, I stop in the kitchen to grab something to drink and overhear Angela and Masen talking.

"So you can't remember anything at all?" Angela asks sounding shocked.

"Nothing about me or anything that will help me find my family," he responds.

"What did you remember today that you were writing down?" She asks curiously.

"Bella reminds me of someone, a sister or mother, she's kind, sweet, innocent. I think it's my little sister. I can see her face but I don't know her name," he responds thoughtfully.

"You weren't looking at her like she was your sister." Angela remarks sarcastically.

"You don't give up, do you? I'm not going to deny that I'm attracted to her. I think that's pretty obvious. I'm just not in a position to be in a romantic relationship. I have nothing to offer. It wouldn't be fair to Bella. I don't even know who I am or what my past may have been like. I mean, what if I'm a bad guy? Bella deserves better," he says.

"But, I see the way you look at one another. It's like something out of a movie," she replies sadly.

"I think it's best if we're just friends for now. I don't want to hurt her." he finishes.

"All right . . . all right. I give up. My matchmaking days are over. Just remember that she's a good person who deserves the best. I may be pregnant, but I have a mean right hook for anyone who hurts her.." Angela threatens.

From where I'm pressed against the wall, I hear Angela shuffle towards the kitchen. I retreat to the hallway then slowly return to the kitchen to avoid being caught eavesdropping.

"I knew you were there," she whispers to me as I enter the room.

"Sorry, I didn't want to interrupt. What was he saying about his notebook?" I ask.

"He keeps track of all flashes of memory he gets. He's trying to piece things together and eventually find his family," she says.

We return to the living room and resume clipping coupons and watching television. Masen is writing in his book again. Around ten o'clock Angela excuses herself to bed leaving Masen and I alone. I pack up the clipped coupons in the show-boxes I have separated them into. I have one for groceries, one for healthcare items, one for cleaning products, and one for everything else. I hadn't realized they made coupons for so many different things.

I join Masen on the sofa after I'm finished. He's resting his arm along the back, so I sit farther away from him than I did last night. While I would rather snuggle close, and he seems to be inviting me to, I realize that what he needs from me now is friendship, the very thing I told Masen that I wanted from him. Physical closeness just makes this more difficult – for both of us. I'm determined to be his friend and to help him find his family. I have no other expectations nor will I pressure him for more than he's able to give.

Despite Masen's fears that he is a bad guy, I know in my heart that he's not. He's kind and considerate; he's honest and he's a hard worker. The way he speaks is eloquent, but even beyond that there's an intelligence in those green eyes of his. Those eyes . . . I must not think about them. I've got to keep a clear head and focus on helping him get his life back. Maybe then . . .

"Will you show me your book and tell me about your memories?" I ask. Masen smiles brightly at me and nods his head while retrieving his notebook from the table.

A/N: I want to thank "trekgeezer" for fixing all of my errors and making great suggestions in this story. I appreciate everyone who reviews and offers their ideas. I hope that you are enjoying Bella and Edward's journey, and that it's not moving too-slow or too-fast pace for you. Thanks again for reading and please review. Not begging here but reviews would be nice.


	5. Chapter 5

A Mission Heart

Chapter 5: Memories

"These remind me of my father." Masen shows me clippings and sketches of various images of doctors and older men playing baseball.

"See, here the dad is playing with four kids," Masen says. "I have a feeling there are four of us, three boys and one girl."

"Do you know where you fall in the mix?" I ask, looking closer at the pictures and turning the page.

"I'm in the middle somewhere," he responds.

We continue to look over the pictures. He shows me different pages and what reminds him of whom. He believes that he has an older brother who taught him how to play baseball. They were close and Masen remembers following him around and being locked out of a bedroom for pestering the older boy. He laughs as he remembers this.

"My little sister offered to let me play with her dolls as conciliation," he says. I join in on his laughter as he explains that he was not pleased with the alternative activity.

"What about the third child?" I asked. "You remember a little sister and an older brother, who else is there besides you?"

"That's the most frustrating thing that I can't remember." Masen runs his fingers through his hair a couple times before turning the page to a clipping of a woman baking.

"Her hair reminds me of the memories of my mother." He traces his fingers along the picture of the woman.

I notice a lone tear fall slowly down his cheek and reach my hand up to brush it away. Masen leans his face into my touch. I look up into his face where it rests in my hand. His eyes are closed while his face holds a sad pout. I rest my remaining hand on his other cheek and rub small soothing circles there. I cannot resist pulling him down to me for a hug. As I wrap my arms around his head and rub his back, Masen nuzzles against my hair tickling my neck with his warm breath. He gathers my hair toward my other shoulder, gently touching his lips to the skin on my neck. As we continue our embrace my entire body is in hyper-sensitive overdrive. I try to ignore my body's reaction to this small contact and concentrate on comforting him. I hug Masen tighter, rubbing his back while my other hand draws small circles on his scalp.

"Mmm." A small moan escapes his mouth, fanning across my neck. Masen's body relaxes into my embrace. His strong arms encircle me and draw me closer to him.

I feel so many emotions at once that it's hard to focus on any one. I'm sad for his situation, but happy that he's here with me. I'm lustful because our bodies are pressed together. I'm torn between wanting to console my new friend and wanting to ravage this man who is awakening parts of my libido I never knew existed. I choose the safest route as usual and kiss the top of his head.

"It's all going to be okay," I tell him. "I promise we'll find them."

I feel a warm hand tracing the exposed skin on my back where my shirt has risen up. It's making my stomach tighten and twist in a new way. I hold my breath as his hand slides up my skin under my shirt and settles on my ribs. His arm has encircled me while his fingers are drawing little circles on my skin.

"How can you be so sure?" Masen asks in a husky whisper, once again fanning his warm breath across my neck.

"I'll help you; we'll figure it out," I encourage.

"Thank you," he responds.

We enjoy our embrace awhile longer, both of us caressing one another and running our fingers through each other's hair. This feels very intimate to me. I'm finding it hard to concentrate on not ripping his clothes off. My resolve falters even more when I feel his nose slowly tracing my neck, then following the line of my jaw until his eyes are staring into mine. His eyelashes are so long and dark; the contrast against his bright green eyes is breathtaking.

"You have beautiful eyes," I blurt out. I know that my face is heating as I blush.

"Thank you," he responds quietly. I feel his hand slide around my back slowly and stop on the other side of my body, against my ribs. His hand is warm. His thumb draws circles over my ribs then moves upward. My entire body tenses as I realize the path his hand is taking.

"No," I say softly almost to myself.

Masen's eyes close while his hand returns to the outside of my shirt resting on my back. His face drops again to nuzzle in my hair against my neck on my other side.

"I'm sorry," he says and pulls away after giving me a tight squeeze.

"Please don't be. It's all right, I just wasn't expecting it," I reply quickly.

"No, you were right to stop me. I didn't mean for it to go that way." His hands are in his hair again and he is staring at me.

"What way did you mean for it to go?" I ask curiously.

"I'm not sure. I don't want to take advantage of you or hurt you," he says.

"I'm not hurt, see?" I lift up my shirt to expose my ribs where he was rubbing. He lets out a small laugh and relaxes against the sofa.

"I like you," I say honestly, ready to admit to him and myself about my growing feelings.

"I wish you didn't," he replies.

"Why?" I ask.

"I'm not in a position to offer you anything. I can't give you anything," he explains.

"I'm not asking for anything other than friendship," I say. He quirks an eyebrow and gives me a crooked grin.

"Bella, friendship is not what's happening here," he says. "I like you. A lot."

"Then what's wrong? We like each other. Isn't that a good thing?" I ask.

"You deserve more; I can't take you out or buy you nice things. Hell, I can't even tell you my last name." Masen tosses his hands in the air in defeat.

"I don't want those things. I just want you and me to be friends, nothing more," I explain.

"Just friends?" He asks.

"Yes, just friends. I can't promise that I won't appreciate you from afar or enjoy a friendly hug more than normal, but yes just friends." I say, smiling brightly at him.

"All right, so just friends then. Hugging is okay, though? I like holding you in my arms." He says this pulling me against his chest and wrapping his arms around me.

"And smelling your hair," he says as he nuzzles my neck and inhales deeply.

"And feeling your soft skin." His fingers caress my lower back and sides.

"And playing with your hair," I say as I reach up and run my fingers through his hair.

"And making you laugh," he replies tickling my sides.

I wiggle and squirm and try to get away, but his grip is firm and strong as he continues his torture. I can't help but laugh and giggle as he tickles me mercilessly. I try to look at him through eyes that are tear soaked from laughing so much. He is laughing, too and looking at me.

He stops tickling me. "You have a beautiful laugh," he says. I try and catch my breath as he holds me close to his body.

"I can get lost in your eyes - they're exquisite," he tells me, lifting his hand to wipe away my tears of laughter. Finally, my heart is returning to its normal pace.

"Thank you," I mumble, entranced by his eyes.

I can't help the yawn that escapes my mouth. My exhaustion is catching up with me.

"What time is it?" I ask and glance around the room for a clock.

"It's a little after two a.m. We should get to sleep soon," Masen replies.

"Yeah, that sounds good." I rub my eyes to fight off the sleepiness.

We are both standing in the living room searching the surfaces with our eyes. I am thinking about our sleeping arrangements. Part of me wants to lie next to Masen and snuggle all night, while the rest of me is terrified to be that close to him again. I pick up his book and hand it to him for safe keeping. As he puts it back in his bag, I straighten the sheets and blankets on the air mattress and sofa. I'm standing in between the two debating which to take when I feel Masen tugging my arm, pulling me down on the air mattress next to him.

"Goodnight friend," Masen says, as he pulls me close and wraps us in the blanket. He reaches over me to snag the pillow off the sofa and puts it under my head. I snuggle my back into his chest as he settles himself on his pillow. I feel safe and warm in his arms. I'm not sure if this is what friends do with one another or if there is an underlying meaning to our closeness. Snuggled in his arms, I can't bring myself to care if this is crossing some friendship line that we have drawn for ourselves. I'm comfortable doing whatever he is comfortable with, as long as it does not disrupt my moral compass.

As I drift off to sleep, I feel Masen's breath fan across my neck as he nuzzles his face in my hair. I fall asleep wondering if a person can suffocate in hair or if he will breathe it in and clog his lungs. I should not have such thoughts as I'm falling asleep; normally they lead to disturbing dreams and nightmares.

I don't dream, though, during the night. I feel warm and safe. I wake up to the clanking of pots and pans in the kitchen. I mumble something and snuggle back into the warmth that surrounds me. Strong arms tighten around me and pull me closer. When I hear a small moan and feel warm breath flow through my hair and across my neck, I remember that I'm snuggled in bed with Masen. I immediately register that it must be Angela scooting around the kitchen making noise. I try to go back to sleep, wanting to prolong this blissful feeling. As I'm drifting under, I feel a long leg wrap around my legs and pull me closer. I'd expect this position to make me feel trapped, but instead I feel safe and secure. I feel Masen's foot slide up and down my leg. He stops moving and holds me tight.

"Bella," Angela says quietly. "Bella."

"Hmmm?" I respond sleepily snuggling against Masen.

"I made you guys breakfast; it's in the oven on warm." Angela says quietly. "I have to go. Ben is on his way. I didn't want to wake you but it's almost noon. I hate to leave without saying thank you and I'll see you Friday morning."

I open my eyes slowly and blink a few times for my eyes to adjust.

"Breakfast?" I whisper.

"It figures food would be the only thing you got from that sentence." She laughs softly.

"Sorry. Thank you. Are you okay?" I ask. "Is the baby coming?"

"Everything is fine; and no, the baby is not coming right now. I have to leave in a few minutes. So how did this happen? Do you have clothes on under there?" She asks raising her eyebrow at me.

I feel Masen's hand slowly slide under my shirt and rest on my stomach. His hand is warm and sends sparks through my body.

"Yes we both have clothes on, thank you very much." I reply sarcastically.

"UH-huh. If you say so. If I were in your particular situation, I would be buck-ass naked enjoying all of the things I'm sure those long fingers can do." I can feel myself blush at her suggestions and Masen's breath as he chuckles softly into my hair. He moves his hand that is resting on my stomach down farther and starts tracing the elastic on my sweatpants with his fingers.

"I thought you said you had to go." I tell Angela, trying not to respond to Masen's touch.

"I do. And I hope you have an orgasmic day Bella, my dear." She leans forward and gives me a quick kiss on my head. "I know you are awake over there, Penny; stop hiding in her hair and be a man."

I feel his fingers dip into my elastic band and slide around to my hip. I'm hyper aware of his hand resting between my pants and my cotton panties. I wish I had sexier underwear on, like lace or silk. I try and clear my head.

"Hey Bells and guest." I hear Ben's voice from the foyer where he is retrieving Angela's bags. I wave shyly at him. I'm a little embarrassed to be caught snuggled in bed with a man.

"This is Masen. Masen, this is Angela's husband Ben." I nudge Masen with my elbow to get him to join me so I'm not alone in my embarrassment.

"Hi," Masen says, still buried in my hair. His hand waves in the air towards the door.

"Well, we'll meet another time," Ben says. "Bring him on Friday, Bells, we could use another body for the lines. I could use help carrying the bags this year." Ben exits the door with Angela waddling behind him.

I roll over to face Masen. I smooth my hair away from our faces so I can see him. His eyes are still closed and his cheeks are flushed from blushing.

"You! You were awake the whole time!" I say, pushing my hands into his chest.

Masen smiles, opens his eyes and pulls me closer to him. His arms are once again wrapped around me and my face is pressed against his neck. I inhale his scent while wrapping my arms around his shoulders. Masen rolls onto his back bringing me with him. As his legs part, my thigh rests on his hard erection. I'm once again not sure what his intentions are or how I should react. I take a moment rest my head on his chest and turn my face so I can see the window. I try to ignore the rather long, hard mass that is pressing into my thigh through our two layers of sweatpants. Masen is running his fingers through my hair combing it out away from us. His other hand is resting on my back under my shirt. My body is reacting to his touch and the position we are in. I hope that he can't feel the moist warmth of my body through our clothes.

"I wasn't awake the whole time, only after she asked about our clothes," he responds.

"You should have said something instead of leaving me to deal with the accusations and assumptions." I nudge him with my hand. I rest my chin on my hands on his chest while looking up at him.

"I think you handled it wonderfully," He says, massaging my lower back.

It tickles and I start to laugh and wiggle. I hear him grunt to himself and continue to tickle my sides. I try to sit up to get away from his torturous fingers. As I'm looking down at him I take into account my new position. I'm straddling his stomach and realize that I now have the upper hand, so to speak. I pull up his shirt a little and tickle his stomach and sides. His fingers grip my sides holding me in place while I tickle him. I can feel his muscles spasm and shake as he tries desperately to hold back his laughter.

"Two can play at this game," I say. "Ha! You think it's funny to tickle me? I have magic fingers, too." He laughs uncontrollably and wiggles his body up and down. My knees lift off the mattress along with his body. When we crash back down I can't help but notice the shock of pleasure that runs through my body as my center rubs along his stomach. I stop tickling him immediately and climb off. Smoothing my hair down, I tuck it behind my ears and duck my head sheepishly blushing. I'm trying to hide my blush and avoid his gaze.

"What's wrong?" Masen asks, as he takes my hand and gently tugs trying to get me back into the bed.

"I have to pee," I respond and run off to the bathroom.

I go through my morning routine in my upstairs bathroom. I take a quick shower and brush my teeth. I take special care to shave my legs and every other part of my body. As I'm standing wrapped in my towel staring at the steam covered mirror, I can't see myself. I begin to panic and lean forward. Now I can't breathe. I bend over trying to catch my breath, but it's not enough so. I rest my rear on the edge of the tub and place my head between my knees. I calm myself down and slowly rise to a standing position, once again in front of the mirror. Wiping away the condensation, I can now see myself looking back.

I see me; I look the same as I've always looked, yet I feel completely different. My hair looks the same as it always has, yet it feels softer and sexier. My eyes look the same, yet I notice they are prettier. My face looks the same, yet I feel beautiful. I turn slightly to the right and then to the left admiring my body that, of course, is exactly the same. Yet I feel sexy and confident. This is not me. I am not this sexy person. I'm the girl next door, the best friend, a shoulder to cry on, a safe gal pal to dump all your problems on.

I head to my room to search for something to wear other than a t-shirt and sweat pants. It takes me all of two minutes to see that Angela has rearranged my closet. Everything is color coordinated. My dressy clothes for work are on one side and my more casual clothes are on the other. I pick a dark blue v-neck cut cotton t-shirt and a pair of dark jeans. I laugh to myself as I realize that once again I have resorted to a t-shirt. The shirt doesn't show too much cleavage, but it's more than I'm used to showing. I spend a little time on my hair and put on a small amount of make up; just some mascara and lip gloss. My hair is still wavy but I blow-dry it to prevent frizzing. Now taking another long look in the mirror, I decide I'm ready to face Masen.

When I get back downstairs, I see that he has deflated the air mattress and folded it up neatly. All of the linens are piled on top waiting to be laundered. I don't see him anywhere and I'm panicked that he has left. I walk swiftly through the downstairs looking for him and see that the front door is slightly open. When I peak outside I see Masen shoveling the steps and sidewalk. I look up and down the street to see a few of my neighbors doing the same.

"Hey, why don't you take a break so we can have some brunch," I suggest to him.

Masen looks up and smiles. He shakes the snow off of his shovel and rests it on the porch as he makes his way up the stairs. His nose is bright red and his cheeks are flushed.

"You look nice," he says as he passes me and enters the house. I duck my head and blush shyly.

"Thank you," I reply.

I take the pancakes and sausage that Angela made us out of the oven and fix plates for Masen and me. After putting on a fresh pot of coffee, I take a seat at the table. Masen is rubbing his hands together and removing his shoes by the front door to avoid tracking snow everywhere. I see that he was wearing his tennis shoes and I wonder if he has snow boots.

We eat in silence and steal smiles from one another. I can't help but blush when he smiles at me. My chest tightens and my stomach does flip flops. I've never had this reaction to anyone before and it's somewhat frightening. When we're done eating Masen starts clearing our plates to wash.

"Don't worry about those, I'll do them. Why don't you get ready so we can head to the store," I suggest. "I have cabin fever and need to get out of here."

"That sounds good. Do you think the subway is open?" he asks.

"I'm not sure. I'll check the news while you get ready. Did you need to go somewhere?" I ask with fear that he's leaving.

"No place special," "I was just going to hang out and wait to see if Pete shows up"

"Are you leaving?" I ask.

"Yeah, you're going out, right?" he asks.

"Well yeah, but I just assumed that you would come with me. You don't have to if don't want to. I'll understand," I say sadly.

"I'd rather spend time with you, if you'll have me," he says, looking me in the eyes, searching for something.

"I'll have you," I say right away, sounding a little too anxious. I feel like such a dork. He has to think I'm pathetic, the way I'm reacting to him. I'm like one of my students with a crush.

"I would like to be had," he says confidently and gives me a crooked grin.

"Oh, go shower already! The day is wasting away." I nudge him with my hip as I take over washing the dishes.

Masen takes his bag upstairs to get ready while I finish up. I gather the linens from the air mattress and bring them to the basement to be washed. I head upstairs to my room to strip the bed and collect those linens, as well. I stop outside the bathroom and hear the water running. My heart quickens at the thought of Masen naked in my house, in my shower where I was naked less than an hour ago. I hear the water turn off and scurry away in fear of being caught. I start the laundry and head back to the living room where I grab my snow boots, gloves and scarf. I run up to my room to get a sweater and bump right into a freshly showered Masen in the hallway.

Masen grabs my shoulders to steady me. I stare up into his eyes and can't help but smile.

"Where are you off to in such a rush?" he asks.

"I was going to get a sweater." I reply. "Do you have boots?"

"No, I don't; my shoes are fine. Now hurry up, the day is wasting away." He smiles down at me before letting go of my shoulders.

After grabbing a sweater, I stop in one of the extra rooms where I have some of my boxes stored. There was a pair of my uncle's boots that I remember being in one of the boxes. He travels around for work a lot so I store some of his stuff here. I'm digging through my third box when Masen enters the room.

"I thought you wanted to go out. I got your truck dug out and cleaned off. What are you doing?" he asks.

"What size shoe do you wear?"

"A 12, why?" he asks, puzzled.

"My Uncle Chris was in the Marines. I think I have a pair of his boots in here" I say.

"Oh, are you sure? I'll be all right, you don't have to go through all of this," he says, gesturing around the room to the huge mess I've made.

"Just one more box and then we'll go no matter what, okay?" I respond.

"If you insist." Masen plops down on the floor and watches me dig through another box.

When I open the last box, I find my Uncle Chris' wedding album. I can't resist flipping through the pages. My uncle fell in love with and married my first grade teacher. I was six at the time and she was my world. Her name was Lilly, and I thought she was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. Uncle Chris met her at my school play, where I had two lines. I can't help the tears that fall from my face as I turn the pages and see their smiling faces. I feel strong arms wrap around me.

"Shhhh, it's okay." Masen is holding me close to his chest and rubbing soothing circles on my back. He smooths my hair away from my face. "What's wrong?" he asks.

"My Aunt Lilly died in child-birth 15 years ago. I forgot this was in here," I sniffle.

"Thank you," I say, as he wipes the tears from my cheeks and helps me stand up.

We're turning to leave the room and I see the closet. In there I find my uncle's foot locker and open it. Next to Marine uniforms and other belongings, are the boots. A quick inspection tells me they are a size thirteen. I smile and pass them to Masen.

When we get downstairs Masen takes a seat and puts the boots on while I dry my cheeks and blow my nose. I take inventory of my fridge and pantry, check my coupons to see what I have and gather a stack to take with us.

"Would you hand me the big binder hanging on the coat rack?" I ask Masen as he gets his coat on.

"Here you go. This is going to be a big production, isn't it?" he asks. I smile widely at him and shrug my shoulders.

"Well that depends on how cooperative you are. What else do you remember your mom cooking?" I ask.

Masen closes his eyes and tries to remember. He turns around and opens the pantry, then he examines the contents. Masen opens a few containers and smells them while closing his eyes, he hands me a few boxes and jars of different items.

When he is done we stare at the ingredients on the counter. I can't help but laugh. He has picked out sugar, chocolate chips, raisins, oatmeal, brown sugar and cinnamon. Basically, it's everything we need for baking.

"Dessert, huh? Did your mom bake a lot?" I ask.

"Yeah, I guess so . . . pies. I remember getting in trouble for sticking my finger in a pie and stealing a taste. Chocolate chip cookies . . . she made them for school . . . and brownies, oh, and chocolate cake." He's getting very excited and bouncing on his feet as he describes his memories to me.

"All right then, I guess we're baking today. We can just leave this stuff out since we'll need it when we get back." I gather the correct coupons and file them in my binder.

"Mom let me have the spoon to lick and Emmett got the bowl. Can I have the bowl?" He asks.

We both stare at one another as we realize that he said someone's name. Who is Emmett? He scoops me up in a tight hug and spins me around.

"Thank you so much! I remember him . . . my older brother. His name's Emmett and he plays football and always gets to lick the bowl. I get the spoon and my sister and other brother get the beaters." He stops spinning and holds me close to him. I wiggle my feet a little and cling to him as I realize that I've been lifted off of the ground. We're at eye level. Masen is smiling and thanking me for helping him remember something new.

A/N: Bella helps Masen relax so he can remember his past. Do you think that recalling Emmett's name will be enough to help Masen find his family? I hope that everyone is enjoying their journey together. Please review and leave some feedback. Thanks again for reading and please review. Not begging here but reviews would be nice. Thank you to Jackie for fixing all of my errors.


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